Realisation
by ManlyFashion
Summary: After Sleep Tight. Everyone has to face up to some things (W/F) *complete*
1. Part One

Realisation  
By Vengeance Girl

  
  
**DISCLAIMER**: In the alternative world where anthropology is "like, snails and stuff", and Alyson Hannigan gives me prophecies in dreams (ones that come true, anyway), I own all these characters. Surprisingly, it ain't this one!  
**SPOILERS**: Sleep Tight. Big huge honking ones for Sleep Tight!  
**SUMMARY**: Set straight after Sleep Tight. Wesley survives, and everyone has to face up to some stuff.  
**RATING**: PG  
**PAIRING**: Wes/Fred  
**FEEDBACK**: Please! To rach@wholenew.deep-ice.com  
**DISTRIBUTION**: The usual places, you know who you are. Anywhere else, please ask :-) I don't bite!  
**AUTHORS NOTE**: Thanks to Selina for listening to my yabbering, and Regina for reading it and telling me it all makes sense *g*   
  
****  
Fred jumped out of Gunn's truck as they pulled up outside Wesley's apartment. Running up to the door, she hammered on it. Gunn didn't follow her.  
  
"Fred," he called, softly. "Fred, his car's gone."  
  
"That doesn't mean anything. It could be a decoy, or … anything." Gunn sensed the panic in her voice.  
  
"Fred, he's gone."  
  
She turned from the door, and walked slowly back towards Gunn. "I know." She sighed. "I can't believe he would do something like this, you know?"  
  
"He must have had his reasons. We just … don't know what they were." He moved to climb back into the truck. "Come on. He might be back at the hotel by now."  
  
"Excuse me? Are you two looking for Mr Wyndham-Pryce?" An elderly woman with white hair and a pleasant face stepped across the street.  
  
"Yes!" Fred exclaimed. "We are - have you seen him?"  
  
"I have ... I live just near him. Nice young man."  
  
"But where did you see him?" Fred questioned, impatiently.  
  
"Last I saw of him, he was in the back of an ambulance - I found him on the ground near here a while ago."  
  
"On the ground …" Fred's voice trailed off and she paled. "What was he doing on the ground?"  
  
"He looked like he'd been attacked with a knife - honey, he'd had his throat cut."  
  
"No" Fred whispered. Gunn jumped forward to catch her as her knees buckled. He held back the cry he felt in his throat and looked the woman in the eye.  
  
"Is he … is he … did he … you know … die?"  
  
"The paramedics said I got to him just in time … a few minutes longer and he would have been gone."  
  
"Thank God."  
  
"But it still looked pretty awful."  
  
****   
Fred dashed into the hospital the lady had directed them to. Running up to the reception desk, she practically yelled at the receptionist.  
  
"Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. Is he in here?"  
  
"Well … just let me check. What's wrong with him?"  
  
"He had his throat slashed." Fred spat the words out; she could feel the anger bubbling up inside of her. Who would dare do something like that to Wesley?  
  
The woman searched through her files for a few seconds, asking Fred to spell out Wes's surname.   
  
"Oh, here we go. Ah."  
  
"Ah? What 'ah'?"  
  
"Well, he's been very badly hurt. I'll have to check with the doctor if you can see him."  
  
"But he's alive," Gunn interjected. The woman gave him a sympathetic smile, and left without saying a word.   
  
"Oh God oh God oh God - he's gonna die," Fred had tears streaming down her face. Gunn turned around to face her, and held tightly onto her shoulders.   
  
"Hey, he is NOT gonna die. We won't let him. Right?"  
  
She looked up into his eyes, and saw the determination there. She choked down the next sob, and nodded at him.   
  
"Uh, miss?" The receptionist had returned to her desk, and this time a nurse was with her.   
  
"Are you family?" The nurse directed the question at Fred. She looked at Gunn, and mouthed 'sorry'.   
  
"Yeah. I'm his fiancée. This is his brother."  
  
"Well, miss …"  
  
"Burkle"  
  
"Miss Burkle. Your boyfriend has lost a lot of blood. You're very lucky he was brought in when he was." Fred nodded.   
  
"But can I see him?"  
  
"Only for a few minutes. He's still unconscious, and he looks very ill - he *is* very ill. He'll have a lot of machines attached, but try to ignore them. Talk to him - they say having someone close to him might help him, even if he can't hear you he may sense you." Fred nodded again, dumbly. "Only one of you can go in right now."  
  
Gunn looked at Fred and smiled slightly. "Go on. You go."  
  
Fred followed the nurse through to a room slightly apart from the rest of the emergency unit. She gasped when she saw Wesley. His skin was pale almost to the point of being completely white, and, as she'd expected, his neck was covered in bandages. Machines were plugged into him all over his body, measuring and recording various statistics - she would have worked out which did what if she hadn't been so worried for Wesley.  
  
Fred pulled the room's one chair by the side of Wesley's bed as the nurse tapped her watch and closed the door. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, she placed her hand on top of his, and was shocked at how cold he felt. Wrapping her fingers around his hand, she began to gently stroke it while she spoke.  
  
"Oh, Wesley," she sighed. "How did we let this happen to you? I knew there was something wrong ... I thought it was just because Gunn and I were spending too much time together at work. I should have known there was something else - instead I just tried to fix you up with another woman. I wanted you to be happy like I thought I was ... in the end, we've both lost, Wes. Please don't die on me, I couldn't cope without you. You're my best friend. I could talk to you about anything - I should have returned the favour when you needed it." She looked up, a tear rolling down her cheek. "I love you, Wesley."  
  
"The nurse says you have to leave now, Fred." Fred spun around to see Gunn standing in the doorway, a pained expression on his face. She opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her. "It's okay. I think I always knew."  
  
She stood and walked over to join him at the door, the tears now freely flowing. "I'm so, so sorry, Charles." She didn't know what else to say.  
  
"Do you mind if ... can we not do this now?"  
  
"Fred? Gunn?" A new voice floated through the door as a breathless Cordelia rushed up to them. Gunn was glad of the interruption. "Where's..." she trailed off as she saw Wesley lying there, motionless. "Oh, God," she whispered. "What happened?"  
  
"The nurse said ... uhm ... she said he was lucky." Cordelia had to strain to hear Fred's voice. "We don't know what happened. Someone found him near his house, and rushed him straight here." A different nurse bustled past them and closed the door, leaving the three of them to watch through the window as she and the first nurse checked each of the monitors was doing it's job correctly. "How did you know we were here?" Fred wiped her nose on the back of her hand as she spoke. "The hospital called. They said they found his business card in his jacket. I came here as soon as I got back and picked up the message."  
  
"What about Groo?"  
  
"I left him at the hotel with Lorne."  
  
"Oh." The three stood in silence for what seemed like hours before the nurses left the room, closing the door behind her. The one Fred had spoken to earlier walked over to them.  
  
"He's been very lucky, but..." she looked at Cordelia. "Who are you?"  
  
"His sister," Fred interjected, before Cordelia had a chance to reply.   
  
"Right." The nurse looked slightly suspicious, but carried on anyway. She had doubted the black guy was the man's brother, but they obviously all cared a great deal for him, so she let it pass. Especially as he was going to need his friends around him to pull through something like this. "Well, as I told you before, Miss Burkle, he's been very lucky. He seems to have stabilized now, but we'll be keeping a very close eye on him over the next forty-eight hours. He'll be very weak for some time to come, and it could be months before he is able to speak again. We haven't been able to establish yet whether any serious damage has occurred to the windpipe."  
  
"But he's going to be okay?" Fred didn't dare let herself believe it was true until she was assured - she was worried something would go wrong and he'd be taken away from her after all. "It seems that way." The nurse looked up at them. "The police will probably want to talk to you - do you know anyone that would want to do this?"  
  
Gunn and Cordelia exchanged a glance, Fred not taking her eyes from Wesley's bed through the window.   
  
"No," replied Gunn. "I can't think of anyone."  
  
"Well, I suggest you all go home for the night. You'll be able to see him for a little longer in the morning."  
  
"I want to stay." Gunn saw the determination in Fred's face, something he'd seen many times before. He'd ignored her wishes one too many times, and now he'd lost her. He wasn't going to hurt her any more.  
  
"If you want to stay, I'll go back to the hotel and get you some things."  
  
Fred smiled briefly. "That'd be great, Charles." She turned to the nurse. "Is that okay? I don't want to leave him ... I'll just stay out here, on these chairs. I'll be no trouble."  
  
The nurse smiled. "Sure, honey. But make sure you get some proper rest, or you won't be any good to him when he wakes up."  
  
****   
Gunn pulled the truck up outside the Hyperion, and he and Cordelia jumped out. As they walked towards the entrance, Cordy turned to Gunn.   
  
"Gunn?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Has something happened between you and Fred while I've been away?"  
  
He sighed. "Score one for the vision girl. We broke up."  
  
"I'm so sorry, Gunn. When did this happen?"  
  
"Earlier tonight, when we got to the hospital. You arrived just before the deep and meaningful, which, by the way, I'm thankful for, because I'm really not ready for that."  
  
"Are you okay?" She sighed at her own stupidity. "Of course you aren't, that was a dumb question."  
  
"I'll survive. Which is something that Wes will be lucky to do. He needs us right now, forget about me. Go grab some things for Fred; I'll be waiting in the truck. I'll drop you home before I go back to the hospital."  
  
****   
Fred rearranged herself in the hard hospital chair. She was thankful for the jumper Gunn had brought her, as it was cold. The nurse had found her a pillow and a duvet, but she just couldn't get comfortable. She wondered where Angel was. A glance at her watch told her that it was almost time for the sun to rise, and on her last venture outside to use her cell phone she'd been informed by Lorne that Angel and Connor were still nowhere to be found. They had no reason to believe that they were together, after all, Wes had been the last person seen with Connor, but she knew that Wes wouldn't have given Connor up without a fight. Whatever Angel thought of him right now, he would never willingly betray any of them, least of all Angel. Sentiments that had, it seemed, led to his throat being slashed open. Meaning that there was a good chance Holtz now had Connor, and wherever Holtz was, Angel would be headed.  
  
She hoped he didn't do anything stupid.  
  
****   
Gunn lay in bed, unable to sleep. He wanted to be at the hospital with Fred, keeping watch over Wesley, but he knew there was no point in them both being there. If anything happened, she would call him. And as much as he hated to admit it, he knew that being alone with her right now would be awkward for both of them.   
  
He'd always known she liked Wesley. Even when she denied it to him, the look in her eyes told him otherwise. He didn't mind, though. As long as she was happy, he was happy. He'd always expected this to happen at some point ... only now it had, he didn't really know what to do with himself. He turned over one last time, and pulled the covers over his head, shutting his eyes tight, trying to think of nice things. It had always worked when he was a little boy, his mom tucking him back into bed after he'd had a nightmare. Only now, the things in those nightmares were in his everyday life. So he should have had nothing left to be scared of, but he found it didn't work like that. It just made the little things, like being alone, even harder.  
  
****   
Wesley wanted to wake up. He could hear buzzing around him, he knew something was going on, only he couldn't tell what. He tried again to open his eyes, to no avail. He tried opening his mouth. That didn't work either; it just made his throat throb even more. His arms and legs seemed glued to whatever he was lying on.   
  
He was frightened. He didn't know why he couldn't get up. Maybe it was a curse. 'Curse, I can handle' he thought. 'I'll use my books'. Then he remembered he couldn't. No movement, equals no books.   
  
He tried one last time to prise his eyes open. This time a flicker of light was let in through his eyelids. It was working. One more try, and they were almost open, only now it was too bright and he had to close them again just as quickly.   
  
****   
"Wesley!" Fred had been standing by the window for almost ten minutes when she saw his eyelids flutter. At first she thought it was just a trick of the light, she was seeing things because she was tired. But then he did it again. "Nurse! Nurse! He's awake!"   
  
A different nurse came dashing round the corner. This one had started her shift a couple of hours previously - Fred vaguely remembered being introduced to her when the original nurse had gone home to bed. Bed. Somewhere Wesley should be, at home in his own, not here in a hospital bed. He didn't deserve to be.  
  
"What happened?" The nurse opened the door to Wesley's room, and Fred slipped in beside her.   
  
"His eyes moved. His eyelids, they fluttered. He's waking up."  
  
"There's a possibility that's just a reaction to some of the medication. I wouldn't get your hopes up just yet."  
  
"He's waking up," Fred repeated, through gritted teeth.  
  
"We'll see."  
  
****   
He could hear more noises now. Having experienced the pain of the bright light once already, he decided to try something else. Summoning all the energy he could find, he tried to move his little finger.   
  
"His finger!" Fred? It sounded so much like her, and yet ... so distant, so far away. He tried to move it again, and this time it lifted completely off the surface he was lying on. Another voice, one he didn't recognise, spoke.  
  
"Well, Miss Burkle, it seems there is a good chance you're right." It was Fred. He had known it was.  
  
"Wesley? Can you hear me?" He felt something warm touch his hand, and realised immediately that the smooth surface he could feel was her skin. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but his lips were too dry and his throat hurt too much. Instead he squeezed her hand with as much strength as he could muster, but he realised that it was about as powerful as Cordelia would have been against a vampire when she was still in Sunnydale. But it was enough.  
  
"He squeezed my hand." She'd felt it then. "Wesley, I'm here. You're going to be okay."  
  
He was glad to know that, but he'd like to know what was the matter in the first place. He tried again to speak, but only a tiny croak emerged from his throat, and it hurt like hell.  
  
"Shh, don't try to speak. The doctors said your throat might take months to heal. It depends how much damage was done to the windpipe. But you're going to be okay, and that's what's important." Suddenly it all came back to him. As the images flashed through his mind - him knocking Lorne out, him taking Connor from Angel, Justine slitting his throat, the sounds as she drove away in his car, taking Connor with her, - his eyes flew open. God, what had he done? Did she know? How could she even talk to him if she knew? He wanted to cry, but his body wouldn't let him.   
  
****   
"Charles, it's me. Wesley's awake."  
  
Gunn glanced at the clock beside his bed, while his brain whirred into motion, processing what Fred had said. He'd eventually gotten to sleep a little before dawn, to be awoken what seemed like only seconds later by the phone's shrill ring from it's place beside his ear.   
  
"I'm on my way," he replied, hanging up. Suddenly awake and annoyed that he wasn't with his friend already, he dashed around his apartment, grabbing the clothes head worn yesterday from the heap he'd left them in on the floor.  
  
Slamming the door shut behind him, he rummaged in his pocket for his cell phone and dialled Cordelia. He climbed into his truck as he listened through the message, waiting impatiently for the beep.  
  
"Cordelia, it's Gunn. I just had a call from Fred, Wes is awake. I'll be outside your apartment in ten minutes. If you wanna come along, that's great. If not, I'll see you there." Hanging up, he put his foot on the gas, and headed for Cordelia's as fast as he could.  
  
****   
Fred stroked Wesley's hand as she spoke to him. She knew he couldn't reply, but his eyes told stories all by themselves.  
  
"I knew you'd make it. You're too strong to die like that. You've survived so much - all the stories Cordy and Gunn told me show how strong you are. A bomb went off practically in your face, you made it. You got shot, you made it. You got tortured, and still, you lived through it. You made it because you had your friends to help you through it. Your *real* family. We should have been there for you tonight - we've all been so involved in our own petty little things that you felt you couldn't talk to us, and we're sorry for that. At least, I know I am." She felt another tear run down her face as he turned his head more towards her, and squeezed her hand again. "And we'll all be there to help you through this, too."  
  
"You know we will." Fred turned her head as she heard Gunn speak up from the doorway, Cordelia beside him.  
  
"You didn't even think you could tell me what was going on, Wes?" Cordy looked upset. "I thought you could talk to me about anything."  
  
Wesley lowered his eyes and opened his mouth, taking a deep breath. "Paper" he croaked, wincing at the pain.  
  
"I'll find some." Gunn stepped out into the hallway and spoke to the nurse, and they all watched as she returned with a pad and a pen.  
  
Wesley concentrated hard to grip the pen, and managed to make enough of an impression on the pad that they knew what he was writing.  
  
"Groo," read Cordy. "You didn't want to bother Groo and me?" Wesley nodded slightly. "I'm so sorry, Wes. You know we wouldn't have minded - if it was important to you, it was important to all of us."  
  
"What about me?" spoke up Gunn. "You could have spoken to me."   
  
Wesley shook his head, and they watched as he manoeuvred the pen across the paper one more time.  
  
"Fred," Gunn read. "Man, I'm so sorry. We're all just as much to blame in this as anyone, and you're the one that had to get hurt. Again. Trying to save our butts. Again."  
  
Fred looked up at Cordy. "Has anyone heard from Angel yet?"  
  
"Not unless he showed up at the hotel after we left."  
  
"I didn't." Before anyone had a chance to react, Angel was at Wesley's bedside, his hands gripped tightly on his shoulders. "What did you do? You let Holtz get Connor, and now he's gone God knows where, and we've no idea how to get him back. You've screwed up some in your time, Wesley, but this one beats them all."  
  
"ANGEL!" Cordelia shouted. "Wesley needs rest-"  
  
"I don't care what Wesley needs. I need my son."  
  
"But you know that Wesley may be able to help you." She placed a finger on his chest. "And somewhere in here, you know that Wes wasn't to blame for Holtz taking Connor. But obviously you won't be realising that anytime soon, so I think it'd be better if you left. I take it there's sewer access?"  
  
"Do I *look* like a big pile of dust?"  
  
"Then I'll come back to the hotel with you. You two stay with Wes." She looked at Gunn and Fred, who glanced briefly at each other.   
  
"It's okay, Cordelia, I'll take him. You two ladies stay." Without another word, Gunn took Angel by the arm and walked him out of there before he did any more damage.  
  
To be continued ... 


	2. Part Two

Realisation  
Part Two  
By Vengeance Girl

  
  
The next few weeks were tense for everyone. Angel stayed locked in his office, distraught over losing Connor, only speaking when Cordelia ventured inside with glasses of blood and kind words. Fred spent every waking moment at the hospital with Wesley, and quite a few of her sleeping ones, too. Gunn hardly ever showed up while Fred was awake, which annoyed her. It had been three weeks since he'd overheard her little speech to Wesley, and she hadn't had a chance to talk to him about it. She knew she'd hurt him, but she at least wanted the chance to apologise. Now he barely even spoke to her.   
  
****   
  
Wesley opened his eyes, and smiled to see Fred fast asleep, her head on the edge of his bed. He gently pulled his arm out from under the covers beneath Fred's head, trying not to wake her, and rested it on her shoulder, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear that had freed itself from her scrunchie.  
  
"Hey, English, how you -" he stopped when he spotted Fred. "Oh. I'll come back later."   
  
Wesley shook his head as violently as the bandage on his neck and the sleeping girl on his arm would allow him. Reaching over onto his nightstand, he picked up the pad and paper that were resting there. Gunn glanced back at Fred, and sighed, reluctantly sitting down as Wesley began to write.   
  
"Gunn, has something happened between you and Fred?" Wesley wrote. Gunn sighed again. He'd wondered how long it was going to take for this conversation to happen. He reached over automatically for the paper, which Wes snatched back and began to scribble again.  
  
"I'm not deaf!"   
  
Gunn laughed. "Right, sorry man." The smile didn't last long. "So she hasn't told you anything?"  
  
Wesley shook his head. He'd be happy when he was allowed to talk again. The doctors had told him his throat was physically healed well enough for him to speak, but it was still very raw and unnecessary friction could aggravate the wound again. He should try and keep quiet unless absolutely necessary.  
  
"We broke up. End of story. No discussion entered into."  
  
Wesley wasn't taking that though. Scrawling on the pad again, he finished and held it up.   
  
"When? How? What happened? I thought you were so happy?"  
  
Gunn looked at the floor. "Turns out I wasn't what she wanted."  
  
"There was someone else?"  
  
Gunn nodded. "Yeah. You." Wesley froze in shock. Whatever answer he'd been expecting, it hadn't been that. He wrote something down, considered it for a moment and scribbled it out, leaving his pen hovering above the pad.   
  
Swallowing, and trying hard to make light of the situation, Gunn forced a smile. "So, when you gonna make your move?"  
  
Wesley stared at Gunn. He could tell his friend was still hurting, badly, but he didn't know what to say. He ripped the previous piece of paper from the pad, and started to write again.   
  
"You know I won't be doing that anytime soon" he held up.   
  
"Why not? I know how you feel about her." Gunn looked over to Fred, who was beginning to stir. Following his gaze, Wesley quickly scribbled on the pad.  
  
"I couldn't do that to either of you." Only giving Gunn long enough to read the message before screwing it into a ball and aiming it at the bin, Wesley's expression showed that the discussion wasn't over.   
  
Fred sat up and rubbed her eyes. "I musta dozed off," she apologised, yawning. She looked up at Gunn. "Charles … hi."  
  
"Fred." He turned to Wesley. "Anyway, this was just a flying visit … I'd better get back to the hotel. Cordy was gonna try and talk to Angel … maybe she could use some back up." He stood up. "Catch you later, man."  
  
"Charles, wait," Fred ran out to catch him in the corridor. "Don't you think we should talk?"  
  
"I think we did all there is to talk about already. You don't want me. I don't know if you ever really did, but to be honest, I don't want to know."  
  
"You know I did, Charles. It's just … for a while I've felt that it wasn't working out. Didn't you feel it? Everything seemed so … I don't know … rushed."  
  
"And you'd rather tell an unconscious guy you love him than talk to me about it?"  
  
"Charles, if you think …" she looked puzzled. "I don't even know *what* you think any more." She turned to walk back into Wesley's room. "Maybe you're right. We shouldn't be talking about this."  
  
Gunn sighed. "Fred …"   
  
"What?"  
  
"If you think you'll be happy with him, then I'll be happy for you."  
  
"I'm happy."  
  
"Good."  
  
Gunn turned and left, as Fred went back into Wesley's room, yawning. Wesley smiled, and held up his pad.  
  
"'Go home,'" she read. "What, don't you want me here?" He flipped the page over, and she looked. "'Sleep.'" She laughed. "Do I look that bad? I don't think I've showered in days! Am I stinky?"  
  
"Only in a good way," he whispered.  
  
"Okay. I'll go home. But I'll be back." She leant down to peck him on the cheek, but something stopped her halfway there. Her face hovering above his, she changed direction at the last minute and moved in for a kiss on the lips. Shocked, Wesley pulled away.   
  
"Fred, no," he croaked.   
  
"Oh ... right. I see." Embarrassed, she lowered her eyes to the floor. "I'll be at the hotel if you want anything." She ran out of the door before the tears she could feel welling up had the chance to spill over onto her face.   
  
"Fred!" He tried to yell, but his throat was burning already. Part of him felt like he'd messed up the only chance he was likely to get with her, and part of him knew he was doing the right thing. He loved her like he'd never loved anyone else before, but he didn't want to be the rebound guy. He knew Gunn had said she'd ended it because of him ... but there was a little voice in his head telling him that maybe he was just an excuse to get out of a relationship she didn't want to be in any more.  
  
'Fred wouldn't do that.' He told himself. Besides, that was over now. If he'd just been an excuse, why did she try to kiss him? If it meant that she liked him anywhere near as strongly as he felt about her, she'd wait. Next time she came to see him, he'd talk to her. Tell her why he'd said no.  
  
If she ever came back.  
  
  
  
****  
  
Fred stopped just outside the entrance to the hospital, leaned on the wall and sunk to the floor. She thought he liked her ... no, she *knew* he liked her. So why had he pulled back? Had something made him change his mind? Maybe she was wrong - maybe he loved her like a sister, rather than a girlfriend. Confused, she pushed herself back to her feet, and waited for the cab she'd called from inside the hospital. She'd think about it more at the hotel. Right now, she was just really, really tired.  
  
  
  
****  
  
"Mr Wyndham-Pryce?" Wesley heard his doctor's voice, and forced his eyes to open. She smiled at him.  
  
"So, how are we doing today? Let's take a look at your chart." She scanned the chart at the bottom of his bed for a few moments, and then examined the few machines still attached to him.  
  
"You seem to be doing fine. I don't see any reason why you can't go home this afternoon. As long as you don't talk too much when I'm not around to keep an eye on you, that is." She winked at him. "Seriously, though, it's probably about time for you to start to reintroduce some speech, otherwise your throat will heal, but it won't be strong enough to cope when you start talking again. If you do some talking - just little sentences to begin with - your throat will know what to expect and how to heal." Wesley nodded. "Shall I call someone for you, get them to come and pick you up?" He nodded again, and gestured at the Angel Investigations card on the table.   
  
"Call that number." He swallowed, wincing. "Someone should be there."  
  
She smiled. "I'll get right on it."  
  
  
  
****  
  
The Hyperion Hotel was quiet. Angel was still in his office, Gunn was out, Cordelia was scrubbing out the stove, and Fred was reading a magazine in the lobby. Or at least, she was trying to look as if she was. Cordelia had walked past her twice in the last half hour and she hadn't turned the page once. She was probably thinking about Wesley - as usual. She didn't know what had gone on at the hospital, but ever since she got back two days ago, Fred had hardly said two words to any of them. Which was unusual, for her.   
  
"Hey, Fred. Would it kill ya to give me a hand with this?" For an oven that doesn't get used that much, it had sure accumulated a lot of gunk.  
  
Fred didn't look up from the magazine she wasn't reading. "Hmm?"  
  
Cordy sighed. "Never mind." Suddenly the phone at the counter rang, making her jump a mile into the air. Fred, however, didn't flinch. "Well, could you at least get that? I'm up to my elbows in goo, and -" she realised Fred wasn't listening. "Hey! Fred!"  
  
The physicist jumped as Cordy broke into her thoughts. "Huh?" She looked up, and spotted Cordy staring pointedly at the phone. "Did you want something?"  
  
"Jesus, Fred! The phone! Could you answer it?!"  
  
"Oh! Right!" Fred dashed to the phone, and picked it up. "Angel Investigations, we help ... well, some people. How can we help you?"  
  
Cordy sighed and turned back to the stove. It was obviously the best she was going to get.  
  
"Oh, hi! He is? He can?! Oh, sure. I'll be there as soon as possible." Fred hung up, and turned to Cordelia. "Wesley's coming home!"  
  
Cordy smiled. Maybe this would bring Fred out of whatever rut she was stuck in. "When?"  
  
"As soon as I get there."  
  
"So, what, you gonna ride him home on your bike?"  
  
"No, he wouldn't -" she stopped. "Oh. I get you."  
  
"Go on, Fred. Take Angel's car. It's not like he's gonna be coming out of there any time soon. Keys are on the counter."  
  
"Thanks, Cordelia!"  
  
  
  
****  
  
"Mr Wyndham-Pryce? Your fiancée is here if you're ready to go."  
  
Wesley glanced around the room, making sure he'd gathered up everything. "Thank you, I - wait … fiancée?"  
  
"Yes, Miss Burkle."  
  
Suddenly Wes vaguely remembered something Wes had said in the first couple of days he'd been in there.  
  
  
  
_"I had to tell them I was your fiancée, and Gunn was your brother. Oh, and Cordy's your sister. They wouldn't let us in to see you otherwise. I've got a whole story worked out about how your Dad died tragically when you were young, and your mom remarried and - voila - Gunn. Although they don't seem to be particularly bothered."_  
  
He smiled. "Ah, yes, sorry. I was expecting my … uh … brother."  
  
The nurse laughed as she pushed a wheelchair into the room.  
  
"Oh, that won't be necessary. I can walk."  
  
"I'm sure you can, but it's hospital policy. Sorry!" Wesley just nodded, picked up his bag and sat down in the chair. As the nurse pushed him through the corridor, Wes felt a wave of relief wash over him that he was getting out of this place.  
  
  
  
****  
  
Fred leaned against the car, the passenger door open and the engine ready and switched on. She stared at the hospital entrance for what seemed like hours, until eventually she spotted him. She still wasn't sure what she was going to say to him.  
  
She watched him thank the nurse that had wheeled him out, and stand up. He squinted towards her and he smiled when he saw that she was really there. She smiled back and gestured towards the car as he walked over to where she stood.  
  
"You ready to go?"  
  
"I'm glad you came."  
  
Fred blushed. "Well I couldn't very well leave you here now, could I?" She laughed. "Come on, get in the car."  
  
Wesley opened the trunk and threw his bag inside, his movements still slow and deliberate. Fred hadn't realised that he was hurt so much other than his throat, but then, she guessed it made sense. He'd lost a lot of blood, and he'd been lying down almost constantly for three weeks. He was bound to be a little shaky.  
  
"You need a hand?"  
  
"No, I'm fine." He slammed the trunk shut and slipped into the car, closing it behind him, and smiling at Fred, sat in the drivers seat.  
  
They sat in silence until they were well away from the hospital, neither of them wanting to be the first to speak. Fred kept glancing over at Wesley while she was driving, but each time she looked, he was just staring at his fingers.  
  
"Wesley, I shouldn't have -"  
  
"Fred, I didn't mean to-" They spoke simultaneously, and laughed, nervously.  
  
"You go first, Fred." She was glad he'd said it - she wanted to be polite and tell him *he* should go first, but she had this feeling if she didn't say it now, he'd say something that changed everything. It always happened on TV, the kind of shows where you end up screaming at the screen because things always turn out the wrong way. So instead, she nodded.  
  
"I shouldn't have tried to kiss you then, Wes. It was wrong of me, you were ill, I was worried, things got the better of me." She saw his face fall, that kind of way where they try not to show it, but you know it's there. "I should have waited."   
  
He looked up, hopefully. "Waited?"  
  
She nodded. "Yeah. I really like you, Wes, but I don't know what I was thinking, so soon after things with Charles. I should have known better. He's your best friend, you would never do anything that might hurt him. You're loyal. It's part of what I love about you." She looked at him, and laughed slightly. "Your turn."  
  
"You've said most of it already, which is good, because it means I have to say less." He pointed at his throat. "You know me too well!" His expression changed, and he spread his fingers out in front of him, fidgeting. "You got one thing wrong, though. I'm not loyal." It was barely a whisper, but she knew what he was thinking.  
  
"You are, Wes. It may not look like that to Angel right now, but you are. You wouldn't have taken Connor if you didn't care so much about him that you wanted to save him."  
  
"But I didn't - in the end, if I hadn't taken him, he would probably still be here."  
  
"You can't know that. It's more important that we focus on getting him back now than beating ourselves up over what we-"  
  
"Fred, my apartment is that way." Interrupting her, Wesley pointed out of the window, indicating a turning Fred had missed.  
  
"Oh, yeah." She smiled sheepishly. "That's the other thing. We aren't going to your apartment. We're going to the hotel."  
  
"I don't know if that's such a good idea..."  
  
"Look, I want you where I can keep an eye on you, and if you're worried about Angel, he probably won't even know you're there. He hasn't come out of his office since it happened."  
  
"I feel so much better knowing that," he sighed, sarcastically. "Okay, I'll come, but on the condition that if Angel makes so much as one comment that he wants me out of there, you let me go. No arguments?"  
  
Fred turned off the engine as Wesley looked up and realised they were outside the hotel. "No arguments," she agreed.  
  
She stepped out onto the street and locked the door, grabbing Wesley's bag out of the trunk on her way round to help him out of the car. She looked at his pale face, making a mental note to get him a drink as soon as they were inside. Offering him her arm, she smiled brightly.  
  
"Shall we?"  
  
He attempted to smile back. "I guess."  
  
  
  
****  
  
"Angel, you've gotta come out of here."  
  
"Why, Cordelia? Explain that to me again. I've been in here every day for the last twenty-one days, and still I have no idea how to get my son back."   
  
"Surely that's even more reason for you to come out? It's obviously not doing any good you being in here."  
  
Cordelia glanced around the office to see the ocean of books around the floor. The mess had been steadily getting worse in here for the last two weeks, as Angel had eventually realised that Connor wasn't going to come back on his own. Instead he'd locked himself inside, and vowed to read every single one of those books until he found something of use.  
  
"I'm going to get him back."  
  
"But maybe if you'd just come outside, we could all help you work on it?" She sighed. "Look, Angel. We've been in some bad scrapes, and granted, this is probably the worst yet, but we can get through it." She crouched down and picked up his hand from the arm of the chair it lay on. "If you come out, we'll get through it. We'll all put our heads together, and we'll find Connor." She felt relief rush up inside her as he looked into her eyes, properly, for the first time in three weeks. She saw pain in them, but she also saw hope. "I promise." She smiled at him, and she knew she'd gotten through to him at last.   
  
She heard voices from outside, and figured they had a customer. She pushed herself to her feet, and prepared to go and tell yet another client that they couldn't help them right now.  
  
  
  
****   
  
Fred swung open the door, and helped Wesley down the steps to the couch in the lobby.   
  
"Would you like a drink?" Wesley nodded. "Tea?"  
  
"No, thanks. Too hot. Water, please." He'd done quite a bit of talking since he got in the car, and it was starting to catch up with him. His throat was throbbing. As Fred put the kettle on, he reached into his bag for the sheet of pills the doctor had given him. He spun around when he heard the door to the office bang closed.   
  
"Cordelia!"  
  
"Wesley? Uh ... hey!" She gave him a quick hug, then turned to Fred. "Can I have a word please?"  
  
"Sure, Cordelia." Wesley sighed as the two girls walked away from him. As he suspected, Fred hadn't mentioned bringing him here to Cordelia, either.  
  
"Fred, what are you doing?" Cordy hissed. "I mean, it's great that Wesley's better, but here?! Why?"  
  
"He can help us find Connor. And I wanted him near me."  
  
"You don't think Angel's going to have something to say about this?"  
  
"I don't care if he does. Wes could be the only one who could help us figure out what happened to Connor, whether Angel likes it or not. Besides, he hasn't left his office since he ... lost ... Connor."  
  
"What's he doing here?" Fred spun around to see Angel standing in the doorway, and sighed. "Me and my big mouth," she whispered to herself.  
  
"I brought him here."  
  
"How dare you? This guy is the reason I no longer have a son."   
  
Wesley started to stand up. "Fred, maybe it would be better if I just -"  
  
"Siddown!" Cordelia pointed at Wesley, who obeyed, and then she turned to Angel. "Angel, I know you probably don't want to see Wes right now-"  
  
"Understatement."  
  
"-but Fred and I want him here. And whether you like it or not, he's staying. I know you know that he could be the only one who can find Connor -"  
  
"Because it's his fault he's gone."  
  
"No, because it's what he's good at. And you know it."  
  
"Fine. But don't expect me to talk to him." Angel turned and headed back into his office. Wesley sighed. He was breaking the group apart, and it killed him to see it. He smiled thankfully at Cordelia and Fred for standing up for him, but he couldn't leave it at that. "Angel, wait." The vampire didn't halt, and slammed the door in Wesley's face. Sighing, yet determined, he opened the door, shocked to see Angel sitting on the floor, his head in his hands, tears running down his face like a small child. He didn't look up as Wesley quietly closed the door behind him, and sunk down to the floor next to Angel.  
  
"I know you don't want to talk to me right now, maybe never, which I understand. But I'm going to talk to you. About what I did. Because even if you don't want to hear it, I think it might help both of us. We can talk to the others until we're blue in the face, but there are things about this that only the other will understand. I think you know that." He looked at Angel. Still no reaction. Not the best possible scenario, but at least he wasn't being thrown through the door like he'd been afraid would happen.  
  
He took a deep breath, having no idea exactly what he was going to say, and began to talk.   
  
"I'm really sorry for taking Connor. I know that doesn't anywhere near do it justice, but there isn't any other way to apologise. I promise you, I'm going to work night and day until I get him back for you. I thought he was doing it for the best, but as usual I was wrong. You were right, in the hospital. This is the worst screw-up I've ever made. I just wanted to save Connor from having the kind of childhood that *I* had. I had to spend the whole time being protected by my mother, or watching over my shoulder in case my father or one of his "associates" were waiting for me. I wanted to take him somewhere he could be a proper boy, and have fun, without having to be careful all the time." He looked over at Angel. "I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life, and I'll never forgive myself for it. I *will* get him back for you."  
  
Sighing, Wesley stood up to go. As he was about to close the door behind him, Angel lifted his head.  
  
"I know you will. And I'm grateful for it. But I still can't forgive you."   
  
"I don't expect you to. I'm just grateful you'll let me help."  
  
"Whatever feelings I may have about you, Wesley, I know that we've got more chance of finding Connor with you on our team than without. And that's more important than anything to me right now."  
  
"I understand." Gently closing the door behind him, leaving Angel to himself, Wesley turned to see Fred and Cordelia staring eagerly at him.   
  
"Well?"  
  
"Well what?"  
  
"What did he say?" Fred spoke impatiently.  
  
"He knows I can help."  
  
"But -"  
  
"I can't tell you anything else. It's not important who said what."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Angel opened the door to the office, and stepped out just as Wesley settled himself behind the counter with two large volumes. "I have some more books in here, Wesley. Give me a shout if you need any of them." He didn't make eye contact with Wesley, but still, Wes knew Angel had faith in him. Something he didn't deserve, so he wasn't going to let Angel down again.   
  
"Thank you."  
  
Fred brought Wesley a glass of water and sat down next to him. "Where do we start?"  
  
Wesley smiled gratefully at her, and pointed to a smaller book. "That one."  
  
The two of them sat in silence for hours, reading every word on every page that they thought could be of use to them. Eventually, when the sun had set long ago, Wes noticed Fred's head beginning to droop. He smiled as he watched her hair pool onto the pages of the book she was reading, and waited until her face dropped down onto the counter. Then he slipped down from the stool, slid an arm under her legs and the other behind her back, and carried her slender body up to her room. He was surprised to arrive at her bedroom door without feeling any pain or tiredness, and smiled again as he dropped her onto her bed. Kneeling beside her, he pulled a thin blanket from the floor, and draped it over her. Tucking and stray strand of her hair behind her ear, he kissed her gently on the forehead.  
  
"I love you, Fred," he whispered.  
  
"I know," she murmured, sleepily. "I love you too, Wes."  
  



End file.
